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In Jesus is our store,

Grace issues from his throne; Whoever says, “ I want no more,"

Confesses he has none.

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GRACE, triumphant in the throne,
Scorns a rival, reigns alone;
Come and bow beneath her sway,
Cast
your

idol works away.
Works of man, when made his plea,
Never shall accepted be;
Fruits of pride (vain-glorious worm !)
Are the best he can perform.
Self, the god his soul adores,
Influences all his powers ;
Jesus is a slighted name,
Self-advancement all his aim :
But when God the Judge shall come,
To pronounce the final doom,
Then for rocks and hills to hide
All his works and all his pride!
Still the boasting heart replies,
What! the worthy and the wise,
Friends to temperance and peace,
Have not these a righteousness?
Banish every vain pretence
Built on human excellence;
Perish every thing in man,
But the grace that never can.

LXIV. PRAISE FOR FAITH.

Of all the gifts thine hand bestows,

Thou Giver of all good !
Not heaven itself a richer knows
Than

my

Redeemer's blood.
Faith too, the blood-receiving grace,

From the same hand we gain;
Else, sweetly as it suits our case,

That gift had been in vain.
Till thou thy teaching power apply,

Our hearts refuse to see,
And weak, as a distemper'd eye,

Shut out the view of thee.
Blind to the merits of thy Son,

What misery we endure!
Yet fly that hand from which alone

We could expect a cure.
We praise thee, and would praise thee more,

To thee our all we owe;
The precious Saviour, and the power

That makes him precious too.

LXV.

GRACE AND PROVIDENCE.

ALMIGHTY King ! whose wondrous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land,
Whose
grace

is such a boundless store, No heart shall break that sighs for more.

Thy providence supplies my food,
And 'tis thy blessing makes it good;
My soul is nourish’d by thy word,
Let soul and body praise the Lord.
My streams of outward comfort came
From him who built this earthly frame;
Whate'er I want his bounty gives,
By whom

my

soul for ever lives.
Either his hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I feel it, heals again;
From Satan's malice shields my breast,
Or overrules it for the best.
Forgive the song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe!
It means thy praise, however poor,
An angel's song can do no more.

LXVI.

I WILL PRAISE THE LORD AT ALL TIMES.

Winter has a joy for me,

While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,

In the snowdrop's pensive head.
Spring returns, and brings along

Life-invigorating suns :
Hark! the turtle's plaintive song

Seems to speak his dying groans!

Summer has a thousand charms,

All expressive of his worth ; "Tis his sun that lights and warms,

His the air that cools the earth. What! has autumn left to say

Nothing of a Saviour's grace? Yes, the beams of milder day

Tell me of his smiling face. Light appears with early dawn,

While the sun makes haste to rise ; See his bleeding beauties drawn

On the blushes of the skies. Evening with a silent pace,

Slowly moving in the west, Shows an emblem of his grace

Points to an eternal rest.

FRAGMENT OF A HYMN.

To Jesus, the Crown of my Hope,

My soul is in haste to begone : O bear me, ye cherubims, up,

And waft me away to his throne! My Saviour, whom absent I love,

Whom not having seen I adore; Whose name is exalted above

All glory, dominion, and power.

66

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE FRENCH OF

MADAME DE LA MOTHE GUION.

THE NATIVITY.

'Tis folly all—let me no more be told
Of Parian porticos, and roofs of gold;
Delightful views of nature, dress'd by art,
Enchant no longer this indifferent heart;
The Lord of all things, in his humble birth,
Makes mean the proud magnificence of earth ;
The straw, the manger, and the mouldering wall,
Eclipse its lustre; and I scorn it all.

Canals, and fountains, and delicious vales,
Green slopes and plains, whose plenty never fails ;
Deep rooted groves, whose heads sublimely rise,
Earth-born, and yet ambitious of the skies;
The abundant foliage of whose gloomy shades,
Vainly the sun in all its power invades;
Where warbled airs of sprightly birds resound,
Whose verdure lives while Winter scowls around;
Rocks, lofty mountains, caverns dark and deep,
And torrents raving down the rugged steep;
Smooth downs, whose fragrant herbs the spirits
cheer;

[clear, Meads crown'd with flowers; streams musical and

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